


To Die with the Flock or Live with the Damned

by JinxedAmbitions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Castiel, M/M, Monk Castiel, Protective Dean, Vampire Dean, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedAmbitions/pseuds/JinxedAmbitions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a vampire who has lived for centuries feeding on the inhabitants of a monastery. He's never wanted for anything more than the blood of the naive monks, until he finds a blue eyed novice crying in the garden. It is no longer blood he craves most but the love of doubting monk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Die with the Flock or Live with the Damned

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on tumblr, but it's pretty long for there, so I'm posting it here as well.

Dean has lived for centuries in the forests surrounding the monastery. When it was first built, he’d been afraid that they would seek his kind out and kill him as he’d seen other religious do to his kin. However, after months of hiding deep in the woods with not a single human voice coming from the monastery, he thought to investigate. The monks had taken a vow of silence, and Dean had found an ever present supply of food.

For centuries, Dean has fed off the monks. They would rather die than break their vows, and while Dean does not kill them, he uses what little compulsion he has to make them forget their encounters with him. Never once do they suspect a monster roams among them at night, taking their life’s essence while they sleep.

Dean has never felt the need for anything more from them. If he hungers for something more than blood, he spends time in the villages at the edge of the forest. The young women are always more than willing to help him out.

That is until the newest batch of monks arrive. Five hundred years, Dean has never been tempted by the men who come here to find God. However, as Dean skulks through the shadows of the monastery, his eyes catch a young man sitting in contemplation in the gardens. Dean can smell fresh tears in the air, and while normally he would feast or move on, Dean stands transfixed.

While the man never makes a sound, Dean can smell the anguish on him like a cloak. He would be such an easy target, but he turns to the shadows that Dean hides in and looks straight at Dean, though he can’t possibly see him. His eyes are blue as the seas where Dean grew up so many years ago. The tears that fall from them do not detract from their depth, and Dean wants to go to him more than anything. 

Dean stays in the shadows and watches that night, but he vows that he will have this monk. He does not just want his blood. He wants his body. He wants to make him break his vows by screaming Dean’s name in the throes of passion. Dean wants everything from him, and he wants it to be given freely.

Dean starts his conquest by leaving columbine blossoms on the monk’s window sill.  The deep red blossoms are a rare variety, and Dean picks them every morning just before sunrise to leave at the monastery. 

The monk continues to go to the gardens at night, and he weeps. It is there Dean finds that the monk keeps the blossoms with him, for he takes one out of his robe and cradles it in his hands one night. Dean is tempted to go to him, but he knows it will be more harm than comfort to the man.

Dean continues to feed from the other monks and uses the blood connection to search their thoughts for any information on the blue eyed monk. He learns little more than the man’s name, Castiel. Instead, he is flooded by the impure thoughts the monks have while he feeds. Their desire leaves a foul taste in his mouth as he severs the connection.

The months go on, and Dean continues to leave gifts for Castiel. He continues to sit with him at night, out of sight. One night he comes, and Castiel is not there. He skulks the monastery in search of him, and that is when he catches the thick scent of blood, sweeter than any he’s ever smelled. He rushes to the room that Castiel inhabits, and he finds the man unconscious with whip marks scored across his bare back. In the hearth, there burns drawings. He can make out a sketch of the columbine flowers Dean leaves for him, and behind it he sees a sketch of eyes he hasn’t seen look back at him in five centuries.

He turns to the bed and is met with Castiel’s blue gaze in the dim light of the fire. Dean curses as he goes to him. He takes his hand in his own and runs his fingers through Castiel’s messily cut hair. “Will you let me clean your wounds?” he asks softly as he wipes away one of Castiel’s ever present tears. He barely gets a nod, and he crawls over Castiel’s hips and bends to lick the wounds clean. He takes away the pain they cause, but he doesn’t search Castiel’s mind as he does the others. He only soothes the man’s pain as best he is able.

"You know I sit with you," he says softly when Cas’ wounds are closed, and his head rests in Dean’s lap. A small nod is his reply, and Dean smiles. "I’ve wanted to go to you, but I did not think I would be welcome," Dean muses as he strokes Castiel’s hair. Castiel raises one of his hands to grasp Dean’s and squeeze it softly. It is likely the most touch the monk has experienced since his arrival, and Dean pulls him up and into him arms for a gentle hug.

"You are so different from the others," he says into the silence of the room. The fire has long since burned out, and he holds Castiel close to keep him warm. Castiel doesn’t say a word, but he presses his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. He falls asleep there, and as dawn approaches Dean presses a kiss to his head then tucks him into the covers.

Before Dean retreats to the forest, he follows the scent of Castiel’s blood to the monk who beat him. The smell of it clings to him, damning him. Dean isn’t gentle as his fangs sink into his neck. He doesn’t kill him. He wants to, but he doesn’t want Castiel to carry that burden. He takes the knowledge that the monks question Cas’ devotion, and they cannot cure his predilection to sin. 

The following night, he does not hesitate to go to Castiel as he cries in the garden. He wraps him in his warmth and slips a small blossom into his grasping hands. He whispers to him about the beauty of the mountains in the spring and the smell of fresh rain. He rambles on about his favorite things and when he is finished, the tears have dried on Castiel’s face and there is new life in his eyes.

After that, Dean finds Castiel in his room at night. He draws the things Dean tells him about in stunning accuracy. Like Dean’s eyes, it is almost as though he has seen these places before. It is the night he draws for Dean, his brother Samuel, that Dean kisses him. It looks just like the brother Dean gave his life as a man for, and Dean is so overcome that he barely realizes he’s kissing Cas at first.

The kiss is soft, and Castiel is tentative but leans into it after a breath. Dean pulls him closer as he deepens it. He can feel Cas’ body respond, but he makes no noise. Dean pulls away and looks into Castiel’s eyes to see the love he didn’t realize a vampire could feel reflected there. He leaves that night, with the portrait of Sam tucked into his cloak.

Castiel begins to draw his history for Dean, and Dean cherishes every bit of knowledge Castiel gives him, even if much of it is painful. Castiel came from a devout family, and when he disobeyed his family, they sent him here. He was once faithful, but he doubts more and more as each day passes, and the monks neither welcome or teach him how to find salvation. His only solace is the charred embers from the fire which he uses to draw on the parchment he steals.

Dean asks him to run away with him, but Castiel fears breaking his vows. Dean does not push him to leave. He does not even push him to sin for Dean, but Castiel craves touch. What starts with hugs and soft kisses graduates to clumsy rubbing and wandering hands. Dean let’s Cas touch all him wants, and when Castiel positions Dean’s hand over the bulge beneath layers of cloth, Dean slips his fingers beneath Cas’ robes and helps him find relief.

The second time they lash him, they nearly kill him. Dean can smell his blood before he even enters the monastery. He can barely control the monster in him as he sprints up the winding stone stairs toward Castiel’s room. He’s met with ten monks all holding torches and weapons. He doesn’t know how they know what he is, and he doesn’t really care. He can hear Cas’ shallow gasps for breath on the other side of the door. He can feel him barely clinging to life. The heavy smell of blood is intoxicating, but it fuels his rage instead of his hunger.

"If you let me take him, I will spare your lives. If he dies, not a single man residing in these walls will survive the night," Dean warns as he lets his fangs lower and his eyes darken. 

"We must save him from sin. We must save him from corruption," the abbot, a man known as Zachariah, says coldly. His voice is scratchy from disuse, but his words are firm.

"The corruption within the walls is far greater than that outside of it," Dean remarks as he takes a step closer. Some of the monks step back in fear as he approaches them while others push their torches at him. "You will not kill me, so I suggest you step away," he gives one last warning.

They do not heed it, and Dean refuses to lose any more time. He throws the closest man into several of the others before going for Zachariah. He’s met by another monk, named Uriel, who thrusts a dagger at him. He catches Dean’s side, but Dean quickly slams the large man’s skull against the wall. He steps over the crumpled body to reach for Zachariach, whose hands are still red with Cas’ blood. He takes out three other monks before he reaches the abbot. 

Zachariah cowers away from him when he gets to him. “Take him. Do as you will to him. Leave us in peace,” the man begs. Dean lifts him by his robes and looks deep into his eyes.

"I’d watch my back if I were you, father. The stench of a coward’s blood can be smelled for miles," Dean says as he drops him to the cold floor before kicking through Castiel’s door. He is met by a monk that thrusts a stake deep into his stomach, but Dean pushes him out of the way and goes to Castiel’s side.

"I’m here, my love," he says softly, and he can see that Castiel is barely lucid. "You must choose for me. You must choose death here as one of God’s flock or life with me as one of his damned," he says as he runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair. It is as much a comfort to him as Cas.

The monk that stabbed him watches them in fear as Dean tenderly lifts Castiel into his arms. Castiel makes no sound though agony is clearly written across his face. Dean presses a kiss to his forehead and cradles him to his chest.

"You must make a choice, Castiel. I am not strong enough to be allowed to make it for you. I would have you as my own for all eternity, but that is not my choice to make," Dean says as he looks into the dulling blue of Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel grabs at Dean’s cloak with uncoordinated fingers. He moves him lips, but his tongue his heavy and no sounds emerge. He tries again, and the first word Dean hears Castiel say is his name. It is broken and scratched, not the prayer he’d hoped for during passion, but it is his name spoken with more love than he’s heard in centuries. “I want to live…with you,” Castiel whispers, and as though those words were all he had the energy to say, he goes limp in Dean’s arms.

Dean wastes no time tearing open a vein and forcing it down Cas’ throat. The monk in there with them makes a surprised noise as Dean feeds his blood to Cas, but he doesn’t run away. He’s mesmerized by the way Dean rocks Castiel’s body and talks quietly about the mountains in the spring and how Castiel will love them.

He doesn’t try to stop them as Dean lifts Castiel’s broken body and carries it out of the monastery. None of the monks stop him, though some look like they’d like to. Others look hopeful as though Castiel is a symbol of something greater, but Dean pays them no mind as he disappears into the forest.

***

When the spring comes, and the columbine is in bloom, Dean takes Castiel into the mountains. The thick canopy provides them enough coverage that they can travel during the day. Dean holds the easel he made for Cas while Castiel carries his canvas and paints. They find a grove where the wildflowers grow thick at the base of the trees, and they sit together while Castiel paints.

Dean distracts him with kisses as Cas mixes colors, and Castiel pushes him away with a small smile. When he’s finished with his painting, Dean is asleep beneath a towering tree. Castiel straddles his hips and kisses him awake. Dean smiles up at him adoringly as he rolls Cas onto his back.

He worships Cas’ body as he’d wanted to do from the first time he saw him. He strips him and presses kisses to every available stretch of skin. He praises him between every kiss, and Castiel holds him close. Dean holds his hand as they move against each other creating friction between them. Even after so much time, Castiel doesn’t talk a lot, but he chants Dean’s name as he gets close to climax. He holds Dean’s eyes with his own as he tumbles over the edge, and even after decades together, it is everything Dean has ever wanted.

 

 


End file.
